


Got you

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Gen, Kink Meme, mentions of child abuse, only mature for Dixon language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: Five time Merle had Daryl's back, five times Daryl had Merle's back and the one time they had each other's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got you

**Daryl: 8 Merle:19**

Daryl doesn’t know if he hates his own punishments more or less than he hates Merle’s. Sitting at the table he eats his dinner as politely as he can, and keeps an eye on his father, well used to always knowing where he is. Really it’s become almost like a sixth sense that Merle had taught him how to hone, leaving him always aware of his father’s movements and moods. So he knows when his father is too absorbed in his food and drink to care about what Daryl is doing, letting him move his hand quickly from the table to his pocket and back again so he can grab another mouthful.

It’s something that could get him beaten if he’s caught but it’s all worth it, he knows it’ll all be worth it in the end. His father chomps on his food noisily, the first real meal they’ve had all week and Merle is locked away in their room, not allowed to have any of it. He hates it more than anything because food, actual real food in a meal is something they don’t get very often. Poor Merle was missing out on a real treat because he’d dared to speak back to their dad. It wasn’t fair and he was going to try and fix it as best he could.

Beside him his mother talks about her day, trying her best to carry on the semblance of a normal family conversation even though they all knew it was bullshit. His father nods and grunts in agreement and he tries his best to add to it all, talking about school and boring his father into ignoring him long enough to snatch more food to shove in his pockets. His mother watches him but he knows she won’t say anything, not when they both know what’ll happen if she does.

By the end of the meal he’s stuffed himself as full as he can get, feeling unwell but relishing it, knowing this might be the last time he gets the chance to feel like that for a while. He helps his mother clear the table as his father settles into his chair, the one pointed towards the TV and surrounded by empty beer bottles. When he’s in the clear he heads to his shared bedroom and makes sure the door is closed before grinning to Merle.

“What you smiling about? Made yourself feel sick again?” Merle huffs and Daryl knows he’s only grouchy because he’s hungry, he doesn’t think his brother has had anything to eat since yesterday morning. “Dumbass.”

Smirking a little he moves to climb onto Merle’s bed, sitting cross-legged and shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Ain’t no dumbass.” Pulling out the corn bread from the pocket he begins stacking it on the bedspread before Merle, hunting out every piece he can. “Take it back or I’ll take this back.”

Merle laughs, already reaching out to grab a piece and shove it in his mouth, eating noisily and not seeming to care that he’s breaking their father’s rules. “I take it back.” His brother mumbles around a mouthful of corn bread, spitting crumbs all over himself and the bed. “You’re a genius. Thanks little brother, you know he’d have tanned your hide if he caught you.”

Daryl shrugs, folding his arms and trying to look as confident and uncaring as Merle always did, as if he didn’t care about the beatings or the bruises and it was nothing he couldn’t take. As if he was anywhere as strong as Merle. “I’m too quick and he’s too slow and dumb anyway.” He giggles when Merle tries to shove as much corn bread in his mouth as possible, looking like a disgusting idiot and choking on laughter. “’sides, can’t sleep if you tummy won’t stop growling across the room.”

**Daryl: 5 Merle: 16**

Merle never asked for a younger brother, honestly at the time he’d have been happier getting a dog rather than Daryl, but he’d adapted as well as he could and that meant dealing with the good and the bad. The good was when Daryl called him his hero and looked up at him with those eyes so full of awe, as if there was nothing in this world that Merle couldn’t do. The bad was when he has to try and convince to a five year old that he was fine after a beating and that he wasn’t a superhero who could make things all better.

Sharing a room with Daryl meant he had no privacy anymore and really the only time he got to himself was when his baby brother was fast asleep or he spent the night over someone else’s house just to get away from it all. Lately he’s been home more often, he’s seen the way their dad is starting to snarl at Daryl and he knows he was about Daryl’s age when it all started. If he has his way it’ll never happen, but he’s worried even if he doesn’t like to show it.

Tonight is one of the nights that he’s glad he stayed home, because it’s near three in the morning and Daryl is crying on his side of the room. Rubbing at his eyes Merle doesn’t sigh at being awoken at this time, instead he simply heaves himself out of bed and stumbles over the small gap between their beds to reach Daryl’s. “its okay baby brother, ‘s just a nightmare.” He soothes, yawning and rubbing at Daryl’s back through the sheets, wary of keeping him as quiet as he can.

“Mer don’t leave me.” Daryl hiccups, scrabbling to his knees and lifting his arms in the shadows of the moonlight, acting like when he was a toddler and wanted to be lifted up without asking. He doesn’t bother resisting, not when Daryl could throw quite a loud tantrum if he was refused, and they didn’t need anyone else waking up right now. “Don’t go ‘way again.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He replies, scooping Daryl into his arms and checking the bed was dry before carrying his baby brother into his own bed. “I’m right here alright? Not going to leave you anytime soon.” Merle mutters, dragging the sheets over them both and letting Daryl cling to him like a limpet even if it really was too hot to be doing do. When he got like this it was best to allow Daryl to do as he needed and if that meant cuddling, then he could cope with it for the moment.

Daryl snivels loudly, wiping his nose on the sheets and his own arm, leaving Merle sighing at the mess and grabbing up his shirt from the day to use as a makeshift handkerchief. Mopping up Daryl’s face free of tears and snot he gets him as clean as he can before they lay back down, Daryl right at his side. “You disappeared in my dream.” Daryl mumbles, that damned thumb in his mouth and making his words slur a little, but Merle doesn’t have the heart to yell at him, besides the rule was that he was allowed when in bed.

“Was nothin’ but a stupid dream baby brother.” Stroking through Daryl’s hair he can already feel him flagging back into sleep, dropping to his side as quickly as only a child can. “Ain’t never gonna leave you, hear me?” Daryl hums in understanding around his thumb and Merle continues stroking through his hair until he’s asleep.

Usually he’d carry Daryl back to his own bed, his mother trying to teach him how hard it had been to get Daryl to sleep in his own bed in the first place and that they needed to be firm to get him to stay there. But right now he doesn’t mind having his baby brother close, not when he was obviously feeling so upset and vulnerable and besides, it wasn’t like this happened every night. One night of letting Daryl sleep with him wasn’t going to change anything so why bother? Settling down himself he wraps an arm about Daryl and lets himself drift into sleep.

**Daryl: 16 Merle: 27**

“What in fuck’s name are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too Merle.” Daryl rolls his eyes, sitting in the shitty plastic chair that was bolted to the floor and trying not to seem so disappointed that Merle hadn’t exactly been thrilled at him showing up. “Thought you might want a visitor is all.” He shrugs, picking at his nails and hating how shitty the prison clothing looked on Merle, it made him look drained and haggard.

“Told you not to come here.” His brother sighs, glancing around the crappy visitors room and running his hands through his hair, looking uncomfortable but not out of place. Daryl hated that the most. “I don’t want you seeing me in here, heck boy how much money you waste getting your scrawny ass down this far?”

Of course that was what Merle cared about, just how much money it had been for him. “None.”

Merle snorts, folding his arms in an accusing manner and eyeing him, looking him up and down and Daryl can’t help but sit up a little straighter, wanting to look bigger, better than his scrawny teenage frame. “Well I know he didn’t drive you here and it ain’t like you got a licence.”

“Tony’s wife was coming by this way to see him for a conjugal visit, wanted to know if I needed a ride to see you. Took her up on her offer, she didn’t even ask for gas money, said I was a sweet kid for missing my brother.” He tells him, picking at the loose threads on his jeans and not watching Merle, huffing a little and feeling like an idiot for even trying to do something decent for Merle. “Starting to think I shouldn’t have bothered since you’re such an ungrateful piece of shit.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence between them and this is not how he’d imagined things going today. Sure he wasn’t exactly thinking Merle would be hugging him or anything, but he’d at least expected a fucking smile. “You know I don’t like you seeing me in here.” Merle finally utters, glancing up to him and Daryl can hear the small apology between his words. Barely there, but it was enough.

“Then don’t keep ending up back here and I won’t have to.” He gives a weak smile and is glad when he gets one in return, it makes Merle look younger and more like the person he was used to at home. “Look Merle I didn’t come here to fight, we can do that when you’re out in eight months.” Daryl scoffs, feeling a little more comfortable in his chair and actually appreciating the sight of his brother.

“You know when I’m out?” Merle smirks, pressing a hand to his chest and fluttering his eyes. “Why Darylina I’m flattered.”

“I ain’t got a countdown or nothing for you, you big lug.” He laughs and this was something he knew, just he and Merle laughing around and teasing the shit out of each other. “Just know you’ll be out in time for deer season is all. Was thinking we could make a plan for then, I’ve been getting damned good with the crossbow, could still use a few lessons though.” Giving a loose shrug he watches Merle and he can see an actual smile on his face, one that he supposed Merle hadn’t used for a while now.

“Bet you need more work than you think, there’s a big difference hitting a target with one of those things and hitting an actual animal.” And like that he’s getting another Merle lesson and everything feels all right with the world.

Huffing a little like the sulky teen he was he kicks at Merle a little under the table playfully. “Hey I could hit a skunk right up its stink hole if I wanted to Merle, I’m a good shot.”

“Yeah but those bolts ain’t as tough as a bullet, can’t penetrate bone as good, means you need to know where to hit.” Merle continues, leaning over the tabletop to him, and for a moment, just a moment Daryl can see that his brother loses himself, no longer locked inside the walls of the prison, but somewhere out there as if it were just the two of them in the woods like before. Eight months couldn’t pass by soon enough.

**Daryl: 6 Merle: 17**

Merle hates his family, and that goes for the extended family members as well. It was late, way past any reasonable hour and they were on the long drive home from visiting dad’s family. He’d hated every minute of it all, but he’d suffered through, smiling and drinking with various uncles, aunts and cousins of his father he swore he never knew and had never heard of before. Sometimes he wondered if they were all just one big lie, but his father had actually been smiling and he figured it was all for real. The whole event had gone on far too long and he’d been desperate to get home for the last few hours.

The back of the truck stinks of damp and the cold but he doesn’t complain, instead he watches out of the window as the moon chases them down the familiar road and he’s so glad that they’re nearly home. In the front his parents argue, as usual. It had been too good to be true for them to spend the night actually being civil to each other, and it seemed the act in front of the extended family had taken its toll, leaving them snapping and calling each other every name under the sun.

He’s used to it all and can tune it out but he’s grateful that Daryl is fast asleep next to him and unable to hear. His brother was too young to understand any of this between their parents, to Daryl they were still the picture perfect stick figures smiling and holding hands in all of his drawings. Merle saw them for the angry souls they truly were.

As soon as the car pulls up home his parents are storming inside, ready to carry on round two in a familiar environment and probably to consume more drink and keep it going until the sun was rising. Merle was used to it and he was even more used to them forgetting that Daryl even existed and was too young to take care of himself.

Sighing a little he gathers his little brother up from the back seat, feeling Daryl mumble a little and cling to him in his sleep, burying himself closer as they make their way through the shouting. Mom is calling him a failure, dad is calling her a whore and he steps over the broken glass on the floor to his and Daryl’s room, closing the door firmly behind himself. Setting his brother down he tugs free his pyjamas from beneath the pillow and begins the task of undressing an unconscious six year old, wriggling each limb free until he can get his baby brother into his pyjamas.

Daryl stirs at all the movement and whines a little, letting his flop forward to Merle’s shoulder and grumbling at being woken up. “Mer ‘m sleepy.” He mumbles, moving to suck on his fingers and rub at his eyes, completely out of it and groaning at the sound of all the noise in the other room.

“I know baby brother, you go back to sleep now, I got you.” He tries to soothe him, running his fingers through Daryl’s hair and tucking him down beneath the sheets. It doesn’t take a lot and Daryl is out again, flopped down on his bed and unaware of the argument reaching a crescendo of mixed yells, thrown punches and screams of pain in the other room.

**Daryl: 24 Merle: 35**

“Isn’t that Daryl Dixon? You hear about his brother Merle Dixon? Well last I heard he was in prison again, but this time it’s for more than just possession. If you ask me it’s got something to do with those bruises down his brother’s arms, you’d have thought losing their mother would have brought them closer, but from what I hear the two of them are always scrapping down the bar, it’s a shame is all I’m saying.”

If there’s one thing Daryl hates the most about other people it’s the gossip. He’d only gone and gotten the part time job helping out down the auto shop because someone needed to keep the power on and it wasn’t like the old man was going to put any effort in. Now here he was, working under the hood of a car and listening to the owner bad mouth his brother as if he couldn’t hear her. The two women mutter together, sipping at their drinks with legs crossed and looking as if this were nothing but another day for them. Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d forgotten he was even there despite him being the starting point for their conversation.

He tries to lose himself in his work, fixing the problems he could see and swiping his brow free from sweat and knowing he’s only wiping dirt and oil over himself. Not that he cares at all. The women tut and he can feel their eyes on his back as he tries to hide beneath the hood, tweaking and prepping the vehicle. It had only been a minor job, nothing more than a few loose cables and overcharging the women for not knowing how to fix such a simple thing by themselves but he takes his time.

The women continue chatting, picking at Merle, scoffing and leering at himself as if he’s nothing more than a piece of meat, and he really hates that they laugh about it all. To them he and Merle were nothing more than funny red necks that lived in the woods and were to be mocked. They giggle over his brother, calling him a brute, laughing at the women they know have slept with Merle and how his brother had never settled down. He hates that they think it’s because no one wants Merle, when he knew it was because Merle didn’t want any of them.

No one here was worthy of his brother anyway. Merle was better than any of them and sure maybe he had issues with drugs and could be a dick, but he knew that Merle was loyal to a fault and that once he cared about you, you would be protected for life. He was living proof that once you gained Merle’s attention you were a part of his life. There bitches didn’t get it, they’d be lucky to have Merle.

Gritting his teeth he can feel their laughter echoing around him, mocking and sneering over Merle, pointing out his flaws and his problems. It makes him want to snap but he needs this job and he can’t afford to start yelling at the women and bring his own reputation down to the same level as Merle’s. Not that he gave a shit what people thought about himself, but no one got to say that shit about his brother.

His fingers move quickly over the car parts, slipping between every part until he finds what he’s looking for, grabbing the sparkplugs and loosening them a little, just enough to be a problem down the road. Unscrewing the idle control valve he manages to scoop a fingerful of dirt into it before replacing it, ensuring that the car would cut out intermittently and be a problem but not a dangerous one. Anyone who knew cars would be able to see it for what it was, the kind of shit mechanics would laugh at you over, but the kind of stuff they could claim needed parts to the innocent and overcharge for an unneeded service. Usually he did his best to stay clean here, but these bitches deserved it and besides, this was the only mechanic in town, he’d be seeing the women again by the end of the week and manage to scam them for some extra cash.

Daryl puts on his most friendly smile, which really was more of a lopsided smirk as he lowers the hood, trudging over to the women with the keys and nodding politely. “She’s all good to go. Got to say though the starter motor is looking a bit worse for wear, I could take a look for you but it looks like it could use a few new parts.”

The women scoff, one shaking her head a little, making her hair bounce on her shoulders and Daryl gets the childish urge to reach out and smear it full of dirty oil. “Hell no, I only wanted a service.” She chews her gum noisily and Daryl shrugs, trying to look sheepish and innocent as they hand over the cash and head towards the car.

“Sorry ma’am was just mentioning it. If you get any problems with her being hard to start, then just give us a call and we’ll see what we can do.” And he’ll make sure Gus knows what he’s done, it wasn’t like his boss didn’t do the same when he needed some extra cash in hand. “Drive safe now.” And scream loud in frustration when the thing won’t start or move, leaving you bitches stranded and needing him to help out.

**Daryl: 21 Merle: 32**

“He ain’t nothing like his father or brother. Heck I’ve seen the kid fight and there’s none of that raw power you know? He dances about like a fucking pussy if you ask me.”

Merle knocks back another drink, sitting with the boys and puffing on a cigarette they’d come for an evening out, one spent playing a few rounds of pool and sharing stories loudly over a few beers. It was nothing worse than usual and he knew he could score a few nice baggies of something sweet if the regulars showed up. Heck he might even manage to get himself a delivery or two to get some extra cash.

“Kid’s always covered in bruises, can’t hold his own. Sometimes you’ve got to let them get into their own scraps to learn and I think he’s been mollycoddled for too long.”

The boys all laugh around him, the band of them enjoying memories of riding through the city, out manoeuvring the cops and getting into a brawl at many a bar. It was just a regular night for all of them and honestly Merle hadn’t even been paying attention to the men chatting over a few drinks at the bar, until he heard his own name and worked out who they were talking about.

“Yeah, see now Merle was different. Boy took after his father, strong willed and he’d come at you like a bull if you looked at him funny. He was always down here, scrapping and fighting, couldn’t no one say Merle Dixon was a pussy. But Daryl…”

Everyone in the group can feel it and there’s a hand on his shoulder squeezing tightly as he turns to face the men talking. They’re too involved in themselves to even know he was here, both of them drunk and talking about town gossip as if it were the most important thing in the world.

“Now there’s a boy who needs to learn to defend himself. Know what I think? Too dependent. He’s used to hiding behind his brother just like he used to hide behind his mother’s skirts. Boy can hunt I’ll give him that, brings back the best deer hide I’ve ever seen, but when it comes to people? He ain’t so good at dealing with them.”

Merle is already furious, the fact that anyone in this world thought they were good enough to talk about his baby brother was bad enough, but saying shit like this about a Dixon was a fight waiting to happen. He didn’t care that the men were drunk or stumbling over words, just gossiping like a couple of old crows to pass the time. Fuck them, no one got to talk about Daryl like that, not no one.

“And just between you and me, I ain’t never seen him with a girl neither. Heck when my boys were his age you couldn’t keep ‘em away from the girls, but the young Dixon? Never have I seen him with a lady. Starting to think he might be queerer than a three dollar bill.”

When he stands so does everybody else in the group does too, all his friends backing him up without needing to say a word. They all knew the way it worked, Merle was family and by association so was Daryl, and no one got to bad mouth a member of their family. Each of them flank him, giving him the back up he needs as he strolls across the bar, already breathing heavily and fists clenched until his fingernails bit into his skin. The men don’t even notice until he taps on one of their shoulders and he can feel all eyes on him in the bar as the man slowly turns around.

“Hey Dixon, we were just talking about your brother. Tell me, is the boy-“

Asshole doesn’t get to finish the sentence before his head is smacking into the bar after Merle’s hit.

**Daryl: 19 Merle: 30**

Daryl hates the fucking cops. Not that he’s ever done much worthy of a night in the cells, well aside from a few nights out with Merle but that was nothing really. He just hates the look they all seem to share, the look of superiority and satisfaction, as if they were themselves above the law and could treat people like him without any respect. This ain’t the first time they’ve ever done a raid on their house, heck when Merle was at his worst there was a raid almost every other week to get his brother back inside.

This time though it’s out of the blue. Merle’s been clean, or clean enough, for a while now and though Daryl knows he’s still selling and trading for some cash, it’s better than what it was. Still doesn’t mean the cops would see that as good behaviour and not take Merle away again.

He’s grateful that he’s got good hearing and that he’s a paranoid son of a bitch. Since he knew Merle was currently passed out on the couch whilst he was out hunting there was no other reason for a car to be so close to their shitty out of the way house. He stays quiet, listen closely to the muttered plans between everyone and makes his way back home as quick as possible. It wouldn’t do to wake Merle, his brother was sometimes a better accomplice if he really didn’t know what was going on.

Daryl knows exactly where Merle’s stash is, heck he knows all of Merle’s hiding places and then he had a few of his own just in case, but he wouldn’t put it past the cops to be thorough bastards this time just to get Merle put away again. Grabbing the drugs he bundles them up in an old shirt before slipping out the back door and sprinting into the woods, his crossbow bouncing against his spine and hurting like a bitch but he daren’t slow down, not when he could hear the sound of tyres on the road.

It ain’t hard to find a decent spot to hide it and he makes sure that the package can’t be seen at all from the ground as he shoves it in a tree, wedged into a gap in the bark obscured by dead leaves. Sure it weren’t perfect but it weren’t in the house and weren’t on their property so heck even if they did find it there weren’t no way anyone could say it was Merle’s. Heading to the creek he rinses his hands just in case before checking the snares, finding a rabbit and grinning at everything turning out so well.

Quickly he guts it, making sure to do a messy job of it, spattering himself with blood and the scent of death before he makes his way back home. The cop car is pulled up outside with a van next to it, clearly wanting to take Merle back to where they thought he belonged. “Hey ain’t you gotta have a warrant or somethin’?” He huffs, storming through the door and trying to hide a smirk when the cops sneer in revulsion at the state of him.

“Your brother’s on parole Dixon, we can check on you whenever we like.” One of them barks, and within a moment Daryl finds himself under the scrutiny of them all, Merle looking at him with confusion at the state of his bloody clothing. “Someone search him and get the scent dog in here.”

Rolling his eyes Daryl makes a fuss at being searched, spitting out words of anger and resisting just enough to not be seen to be taking it like a bitch when they frisk him. Of course they find nothing and are grossed out by the blood and intestines on his shirt, making him grin a little. “Aw don’t like bunny blood huh?” Merle laughs from across the way and Daryl bites back a grin when the scent dog is more interested in the scent of death and rabbit than searching for the drugs.

The cops all mutter about them being clear, someone calls the dog a waste of money and Daryl waves his dead rabbit at them as they leave, all pissed off and clearly not believing they hadn’t managed to catch Merle Dixon off his guard. An arm slings about his shoulder once the cars have pulled away and Merle pulls him into his side, grinning with a laugh and ruffling his hair. “Quick thinking there baby brother. Telling you you should help out with this shit, get you some more cash.”

“Heck no Merle, I got enough work keeping your ass out of prison.”

**Daryl: 11 Merle: 22**

They’re just playing around is all, nothing worse than usual, just wrestling moves and headlocks, spitting out laughed curses and calling each other as many names as he’s taught Daryl. Merle knows he’s technically too old for this shit, but Daryl ain’t and the kid didn’t exactly have many friends to hang out with so Merle did his best when he was around. They end up sparring, throwing shadow punches at each other, grappling on the floor until Daryl catches him between the legs and the little shit freezes for a second when he realises what he’s done.

It hurts like a fucking bitch and he swears he’s going to have bruised balls later on from that. Daryl is claiming he hadn’t meant it and he was sorry, but Merle could see the little grin on the edge of his lips and how he was edging away. “Come here you little shit!” He was yelling, but there was a grin there, the pain of it all making him stumble but he is fully aware it was an accident, if Daryl had meant it then he wouldn’t have been able to walk let alone chase his brother about the house.

Daryl screams and runs, bolting through the shitty house with Merle hot on his tail, rounding corner merely a few feet behind him and grabbing at him as best he could. They pause around the kitchen counter, each dodging one way and then the next, faking a move before running in the other direction and Merle almost slips when Daryl feigns a right before going left. His brother is heading for the door, slipping a little on the linoleum of the kitchen as he grabs the door handle, swinging it shut behind him with more force than the shitty thing can handle.

The glass panel that runs across the centre of the door shatters immediately, the force of being slammed shut for possibly the thousandth time taking it’s toll and leaving Merle on one side of the door and seeing a shocked Daryl clearly through the newly made gap. “Shit.” He mutters, glass around their feet, decorating the floor but for once it’s clear instead of the dirty brown of a beer bottle.

Their dad wasn’t exactly house proud, but he was a possessive bastard and breaking something of his was as good as running into his fist yourself. “Didn’t mean to Merle.” Daryl whimpers and he can see the fear in his kid brother’s face, looking down at the glass surrounding them and knowing that he’d as good as sealed his own fate for the evening.

“Watch where you’re stepping.” He didn’t need Daryl cutting up his feet like an idiot right now. Carefully he opens the door again, jumping past the scattered glass to join Daryl’s side of the accident and look over the damage. Dad would be home sooner rather than later and there was no way they could fix this and hope for the best. “Help me pick this glass up and I’ll deal with it.”

He kneels way on the edge of where the glass had shattered, careful to not cut himself as he scoops the glass into a pile, watching Daryl and making sure he’s just as careful as he helps. They don’t need such an obvious weapon sitting out in the open for their father, they needed to at least get rid of this first. Each of them get a few scratches and cuts on their palms, but it’s nothing they can’t handle and they manage to get every scrap of glass wrapped up in an old rag and tied firmly.

Merle hands the knotted fabric to Daryl and makes sure to meet his brother’s eyes when the truck pulls up outside. “Go take it and hide it in our room, carefully.” They can’t just throw it in the trash, dad would just grab it out and use it if he wanted to, why give him the option. “Then you stay there alright? Do your homework or something.”

“But Merle it’s my fault not yours, I should-“

Covering Daryl’s mouth is easier than asking him to be quiet and he knows they ain’t got a lot of time before their dad walked through the door and it was easier if he didn’t get to see Daryl at all. His brother was a shit liar, he’d need to teach him better. “I said go to our room, now you do as I say and if I hear a peep out of you before I come get you I’m gonna beat your ass you hear?”

Daryl nods, but Merle can see the panic in his eyes as his brother scampers off to their room with the bundle of glass, shutting the door and probably scrambling beneath the bed for safety. When the front door opens Merle doesn’t give hi dad time to make his own assumptions and instead starts on the offensive, sometimes finding it easier to at least get some of his own anger out.

“What the fuck happened here?”

“You’re a cheap piece of shit who won’t buy nothing new and makes us live with shitty second hand pieces of crap. Barely fucking touched the thing and it shattered, could have hurt Daryl if he were out here, instead I got fucking covered in glass.”

The punches fucking hurt but he gives a few back, they trade blows and though his father is a fucking expert at it all, he’s getting stronger and better now at least he could try to defend himself. Daryl never stood a chance.

**Daryl: 4 Merle: 15**

Daryl knows he isn’t very smart, daddy keeps saying so and he doesn’t know much. But he knows he doesn’t like it when mommy and daddy get loud and start shouting and he doesn’t like green beans and he doesn’t like when Merle is hurt. He’s not very good at anything much, not writing, nor reading or being fast, but Merle never seems to care that he’s useless, his big brother always lets him hang out with him anyway. Merle is nice. Merle is his favourite.

He doesn’t know why mommy and daddy yell or why daddy doesn’t like anything at all, including him and Merle and mommy, or why they always drink and smoke and look so angry all the time. He doesn’t know how to be a good boy or stop getting in the way but he knows that Merle is the only one that doesn’t yell at him so much, so Merle is definitely his favourite thing in the world. Today had been a sad day, he’d been playing in the mud and running around the front yard when blankie had gotten caught on a bush and when he’d yanked it free, there was a hole in it.

That had made him cry and daddy had called him a pussy, but mommy had sat him in her lap and fixed the hole in blankie and though it wasn’t the same as before he was still feeling better than when it had the hole. After he’d gone to bed things had gotten loud in the other rooms and mommy was crying again, daddy was shouting and so was Merle. He did what he normally did and buried his head beneath the pillow with blankie, rubbing his face against the soft material and sucking on his thumb until he felt better.

The bedroom light is on when he wakes up and he rubs at his eyes when he finds Merle groaning from across the room. His big brother is looking in the cracked mirror on the wall, touching his own face where his skin is different colours and sighing a little. Daryl doesn’t like it when Merle is hurt and though he knows Merle doesn’t like to talk about it, he wants to help as much as he can. “Go back to sleep Daryl.” Merle tells him and usually he’d do as he was told, but he doesn’t want to right now.

Slipping from his bed he pads over to his brother, leaning against his leg and looking up at him with a frown. He didn’t like when Merle was hurt, it made him sad and made Merle angry, he hated both those things and wanted to fix them. Lifting his arm he nudges at Merle’s arm until his brother takes blankie from his hand, lifting the pale blue fabric and looking down at Daryl like he was crazy. He doesn’t bother waiting around, instead Daryl hunts around the mess of their room, knowing he’d seen what he wanted at some point today and smiling when he snatches it up off the floor.

Merle had moved to his bed, sitting on the edge with blankie on his knee and watching him pad about their room with a confused look on his face. Climbing up beside his brother he unpeels the back of the band aid, his chubby four year old fingers finding it a little difficult, before sticking it over the purple on Merle’s cheek. “All better?” He asks, when Merle chuckles to him.

“Yeah.” His brother smiles, a nice smile and doesn’t even huff when Daryl hugs around his neck. “Much better Daryl.” Today wasn’t so bad, now he had a fixed blankie and a fixed Merle.

**Daryl: 9 Merle: 20**

Most people looked forward to coming home after a day at work, but Merle fucking hated it. Not that he wanted to stay in that shitty warehouse for any longer than he had to, but there was no appeal to coming home either. Honestly the only reason he showed back up at the shithole was because he needed to sleep and Daryl would bitch and whine if he stayed away longer than a few nights a week. Pulling up outside he pretty much abandons the truck, shutting off the engine and not surprised when there’s no peaceful silence of a happy home.

Instead there’s the sound of smashing glass, screams and yells, swearing and hatred coming from their home and Merle really doesn’t feel like going through that door today. It’s just too much to deal with and besides him being there only ever made matters worse and today he was just so bone tired he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. Mom and dad were on a real tirade today, it would probably end up with her packing her bags and saying she was leaving again, storming out and him saying good riddance before she was back and apologising a couple of days later.

It was all the same routine and he was getting sick of having to deal with it all. But if that’s how he felt after being at work all day he knew Daryl must be just about ready to pull his own hair out over it. Ignoring the front of the house he slips around the side, knocking on the window of his and Daryl’s shared bedroom and smirking when his baby brother is soon grinning to him. “Heya Merle.”

“Wanna go for a drive?” He’s barely finished speaking and Daryl is bracing himself on his shoulders and climbing out the window, scrambling out and Merle doesn’t care that his brother ain’t got not shoes on. Weren’t like there was anywhere in particular they were going anyway.

The truck is a piece of shit but it’s a way out of here for a while and they both love it for that. Daryl sits beside him in the passenger seat, not talking about much of anything and making a game out of everything like only a kid can. Merle’s mood starts to lift slowly the more time he spends with Daryl, the two of them driving up and down main roads, down backstreets, round the same paths over and over again until they end up on a rocky perch above a valley below. It’s nothing special but it ain’t home, so it’s good enough.

Merle takes the time to smoke, fishing out a pack of sandwiches he’d managed to thieve from the warehouse vending machine and passing one to Daryl before eating his own. It’s nothing much, but Daryl doesn’t seem to care, picking at each piece of the filling individually before eating it, almost dissecting the damned thing. His bare feet rest on the dashboard, dirt soles pressed against the window as the kid plays with the radio, trying to find a half decent station to listen to.

There’s nothing much to do but sometimes sitting nowhere and doing nothing with Daryl was far better than going somewhere and doing something with anyone else. They talk about how little Daryl is looking forward to school starting again, they talk about how Merle hates his job, they talk about shitty sandwiches, about Daryl wanting a crossbow, about they pair of them needing haircuts and about their father and mother being useless idiots.

The evening wears on for both of them but neither mention returning home anytime soon. Merle is grateful, Daryl looks happier out here and the world keeps on turning beneath them.

**Daryl: 32 Merle: 43**

Rick watches as the Dixon’s fight the walkers in the yard, the two of them having declared they needed more space and that they would clear up the mess the Governor had brought upon them. It reminds him of how he and Shane had coordinated with each other before everything went to hell. There’s no talking involved, or if there is then it’s the two of them shouting out about a good shot or calling the other a pussy. Daryl and Merle move in time easily, as if each move has been rehearsed multiple times and Rick has to wonder just how many bar fights there must have been before all of this.

Of course the walkers are nowhere near the same kind of opponent as another human, and he can see when the brothers move to just fight instead of finishing them all off with one blow to the head each. Linking his fingers through the chain link fence he watches them move, back to back, each wielding a knife and letting the walkers get within range before striking, one lashing out as the other had his back. Really they shouldn’t be doing this, but when Daryl was in one of his moods and Merle was grinning like that he didn’t think his protests would get very far.

Merle is laughing, stabbing a walker through the head and pressing back against Daryl, saying something over his shoulder and Rick can see the grin on Daryl’s face when he hears his brother. It’s strange to have Merle back here and so close to the group again. All he knew of the man was a coked up asshole firing shots off a roof, but right now he felt as if he was watching a different man.

His breath catches a little in his throat when Daryl’s foot catches on something and he stumbles, a walker lashing out closer than was comfortable and making him automatically reach for his gun. But Daryl doesn’t need his protection and in a moment Merle’s hand has snagged the back of Daryl’s jacket, yanking his younger brother back to his feet and his bayonet through the back of the walker’s skull. “You alright?” Merle calls, not even looking at Daryl as his brother gets to his feet.

More walkers go down by Merle’s efforts and Daryl’s knife, piling around the two of them and causing the walkers that are approaching to stumble and trip a little as they try to get close. “Yeah fine.” Daryl calls back and Rick watches, rather impressed when Merle doesn’t even flinch as Daryl kills a walker mere inches away from closing its mouth on the shoulder of his injured arm. It’s as if Merle knew he was there, Daryl covering him just as much as he was covering him and Rick wonders if Daryl missed having this automatic comfort of someone who knew you so well. He knew he missed Shane every single day when he needed someone in combat and no one else knew what each of his looks meant.

All the walkers are down and after scanning the bodies for any more movement the brothers pause, both panting for a second before letting out identical yells of success. Merle is grinning, as is Daryl and Rick watches as they rib each other joyfully. Daryl calling Merle fat and slow, too used to hiding behind Woodbury’s walls, and Merle calling Daryl an idiot for stumbling and asking how he survived so long without his big brother there to cover his ass. The words are playful, but their actions are more caring.

It seems automatic as they look each other over, Merle’s eyes scanning Daryl’s body, running his fingers over his brother’s shoulder and checking for any rips and tears in his clothing, just as Daryl does the same back to him. They don’t say a word about it, but Rick can see this is an act born of repetition and the brothers know each other so well that they’d know of any new scars or wounds. Rick wondered if they’d already compared losing a hand to taking and arrow to the side and a bullet graze to the head.

He still wasn’t sure about letting Merle in to their home, to him the man was a danger who had almost killed Glenn and stood by as Maggie was tortured even though he knew they had information about his brother. Merle was a problem, but maybe, just maybe if he could get Merle to see them all the same way he saw Daryl and treat them all the way he treat his baby brother, they could get along.

At least he hoped so.


End file.
